Brooklyn, June 1, 1941 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the thirteenth annual Pentecost boxing match! Have we got some headliners for you today! We'll start with a man who needs no introduction and one of our very own Brooklyn boys! Please give it up for James 'Buckyyyyyyyy' Barnes!"

Bucky's body moved on its own, so accustomed to the routine. He barely heard the cheers and clapping, barely saw the smiling faces around him. He climbed into the ring, the thick rope heavy in his hand. Why did it feel like a thousand pounds?

"And now," continued the master of ceremonies, "coming all the way from Harlem, a man who has won no less than five matches by single knock-out in one round — Mikey 'The Boulder' OOOOOOOO'Neal!"

The Irish roars drowned out the booing. Bucky's eyes wandered over his opponent as O'Neal stepped into the ring with him. The thirty-somewhat chrome dome was a full two heads taller and sported a neatly trimmed beard. By the bruises on his muscled torso and the one cut above his left eye that hadn't quite healed yet, Bucky gathered O'Neal was getting thrown into one match after another to get to the quota Miss Donnelly spoke about.

Bucky kneeled to his father and Lucas — his coach and second, respectively. But as soon as he squatted, his attention was drawn to the person sitting right behind them as her siren voice reached him again. Evelyn's hair was up in a tight bun, held together with a fine blue ribbon. The sun made the caramel locks shine like a halo. She'd taken off her jacket and wore a dark blue blouse and a cream-colored pencil skirt with matching pumps.
Their eyes met as Evelyn looked up from her conversation with Rebecca. She seemed to stiffen, but Bucky then saw her mouth curl up into a little smile. She averted, cheeks slightly pinker than they usually were. Bucky's heart thumped. Did he make her blush like that?

"Bucky! Pay attention to Lucas, dammit!"

A snapping voice made Bucky jerk his head down. His father's scolding glare instantly made him feel like he was ten years old again.

"Sorry, Pops," said Bucky hastily. "What were you sayin', Lucas?"

"I looked into O'Neal," said Lucas, "and I talked to Declan Gallagher when he got here."

"Gallagher... Ain't he a sports reporter for the Times or somethin'?"

"Yeah, he's been followin' upcoming boxers in greater New York for his latest piece. It's bad, Bucky. O'Neal is brutal. He knocked a guy into a coma for three days, and his last opponent shot himself this morning. There was barely anything decent of him left. It's impossible to beat O'Neal, but from what I gather, there was someone a few months ago who made him sweat and got him to draw. He kept moving and tired him out. That's what you gotta do. And stay the hell out of the corners. That's how he gets ya."

"Don't get cornered and keep'm dancin', got it."

"Son, take this seriously, please," implored his father.

"I am, Pops," assured Bucky.

He got a grunt in reply. "I'll keep the towel at hand, just in case this gets out of hand."

"Don't you dare!" Bucky raised his voice. "I've never thrown in the towel, and I ain't about to start now."

"Bucky..."

"Pops, I mean it. Promise me you won't throw in the towel."

Bucky met his father's gaze. It was plain as day he was reluctant to agree, but he eventually nodded his consent.

"Fighters, to the center of the mat!" yelled the MC.

The cheers from the crowd rose as Bucky got to his feet. He caught one last glimpse of Evelyn and held on to her encouraging smile before he turned to face The Boulder.

"Listen up, boys," began the referee. "I want a clean fight. You go three rounds unless your opponent throws in the towel or is knocked out. You start fighting when the bell rings and immediately stop when it rings again. Stay above the belt at all times. No kicking, biting, or any other shenanigans. Only closed-fist punches. Do I make myself clear?"

Despite O'Neal curt nod, Bucky didn't believe for a second this was going to be a fair fight. Not after everything he learned. This wouldn't be like any of his previous matches. This was going to be hell.

Don't get cornered, he reminded himself. Keep'm dancin'. I only got two two knock-outs against O'Neal's five, but I might still win or at least force him to a draw if I keep the bastard on his toes. 

The bell chimed, and the people hooted and cheered. Adrenaline rushed through Bucky. He put his gloves up, ready to fight. O'Neal advanced. Bucky stepped back, making his opponent follow him. He let O'Neal get close a few times, but he didn't allow him to touch him. Swing and miss, swing and miss; it was all O'Neal did. And it angered him.

"Stand still, ya grubby weasel!" the Irishman growled.

But Bucky had no intention of making it that easy on him. O'Neal could undoubtedly land a punch, but he was heavier and taller than Bucky, not as fast or agile. That was his advantage.

Keep'm dancin'. Just keep'm dancin'.

The dockers in the crowd laughed. They'd seen Bucky fight before and knew what he was doing. But the rest of the spectators grew restless. They came for a fight. They came for blood. Maybe he could give them a little show to placate them.
Bucky let O'Neal get close again. He waited for the jab. But now, instead of stepping back to continue their dance, he stepped aside and punched O'Neal right in his jaw with a hook. A well-aimed uppercut followed suit. The people cheered as O'Neal stumbled, dazed by the sudden assault. Bucky didn't hesitate. He advanced on the Irishman and jabbed him twice more, forcing O'Neal to defend himself. He feigned moving right, and then swung with the left.
Bucky stepped back to think of his next move. He stole a glance to where Evelyn sat. As opposed to Rebecca jumping up and down, dangling on poor Steve's arm, she just smiled and clapped. Suddenly, her expression changed. Her eyes widened.

"Bucky, watch out!" his father and Evelyn cried at the same time. 

He turned back to see O'Neal's glove coming his way and ducked... to the wrong side. The Irishman planted his other glove right in Bucky's stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath. It was like getting hit with a sack of bricks. The punch paralyzed Bucky, and O'Neal unleashed a volley on his abdomen. The force behind his blows was tremendous, and Bucky willed himself to stay on his feet. Suddenly, the bell rang, and the salvo stopped as the referee pulled O'Neal away. End of round one. Thank God for that.

"Fighters, to your corners! One minute of respite!"

Bucky staggered to his corner, where he almost fell into his father's arms. Seeing Bucky's green face, Lucas hastily pushed a bucket into his hands and took out his mouth guard. Not a moment too soon. Bucky's body contracted painfully as he retched. He heard his father curse and immediately saw why — he was throwing up blood.

"We need a doctor," said Lucas grimly.

"N-No," managed Bucky. "I'm... I'm fine."

"Son, you are spewin' blood," urged his father. "That's not fine."

"I'm okay, I swear!"

"Dammit, boy, don't be stubborn!"

Bucky pushed them both away when the bell rang again. He ignored his father's plea and didn't look back to see if he and Lucas made it out of the ring safely. O'Neal got to him because he got distracted. He'd focus on O'Neal and no one else. Time to show this big Irish lug what a Brooklyn boy was made of.
But unfortunately, O'Neal didn't allow Bucky to dance around him again. He went straight on the offensive, forcing Bucky to put his gloves and forearms up like a shield. Bucky took the punches as best he could, but the vibrations hurt his body. Suddenly, he felt the ropes of the ring behind him. No, he couldn't stay there; he'd be toast! He waited for O'Neal's next jab and dove away, finally in the clear. Or so he thought.

The Irishman roughly grabbed him by the shoulder, and before he knew it, Bucky was swung back. The dockers sitting closest to the ring yelled in indignation at the foul, as did Steve and Rebecca, but it had all happened so fast most people weren't even sure if O'Neal truly was at fault. To Bucky's dismay, the match went on. And the one thing that couldn't happen, under any circumstance, had happened — he was cornered.
O'Neal landed punch after punch. Jab, jab, hook, uppercut... A rib cracked with a horrendous noise. Another. His shoulder. His nose. Warm blood gushed over Bucky's face. His entire body screamed in agony. Every breath he took was one too many. O'Neal was relentless and hit Bucky's head. His knees gave out, and he dropped onto the mat.
A voice started counting down from ten. People shouted at him to get up, while others with thick Irish accents jeered in victory. Bucky could barely keep his eyes open. It was too much.

"James!"

Another voice, clearer than all the rest, penetrated through the cacophony around Bucky. He knew that voice.

"James, get up now!"

He raised his head. An angel... Was he dead?

"Bucky, please!"

Evelyn... She was calling to him from his corner of the ring. The terror on her beautiful face gripped Bucky's heart. He couldn't stand it. He had to get up and make her smile again.

"Five!"

Bucky put his gloved hands on the mat.

"Four!"

He tried to ignore the pain his body was in.

"Three!"

He pushed.

"Tw—"

He got up to his feet. The referee stepped up to him. "Barnes, you okay? Do you give up?"

Bucky tried to speak, but his mouth was filled with blood.

"Barnes, I need an answer. Do you give up?"

He spat his mouth guard out. Blood sprayed onto the mat. Bucky wiped his mouth off with his glove and turned back to O'Neal. "Ne-Never."

The Irishman grinned from ear to ear like a devilish Cheshire cat, further infuriating Bucky. The hell he was going to let this overgrown caveman get the better of him! He waited until O'Neal charged at him. His right shoulder was a mess, and he could barely lift his arm, but he still had the left. He locked with O'Neal and pounded on his side, grunting in pain and effort.
At long last, the bell rang, ending the second round. The referee pushed them apart and made them return to their corners. Bucky got some satisfaction when he noticed O'Neal wince as he walked, but he was quickly reminded of his own injuries as he swayed, overwhelmed by pain.

"Bucky!" Lucas narrowly caught him and dragged him to his corner. "Hold on, we'll get the doctor."

"N-No."

"Don't be stupid, dammit! The fight is over; you've lost!"

Bucky groaned as Lucas put him on the stool. His father kept him down and washed the blood away from his face as best he could. Lucas pressed a hand against Bucky's chest and then grabbed his shoulder, making him cry out.

"How is he?"

Another person joined them. A young woman. Evelyn?

"Several cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder," said Lucas. "He can't go on like this."

"I... I can." Bucky wheezed with every word.

"Son, accept defeat," said his father, sternly but imploring. "There's no shame in it."

"N-No!" Bucky lurched forward, tumbling into Evelyn's arms. She stared at him with wide eyes as he raised his head to her. "Pa... Patch me up."

"James, no," she said. "You need to go to a hospital."

"Blondie," his eyes locked with hers, "please."

So close. She was so close. Bucky wasn't entirely sure if he was begging her to fix him up or kiss him. He just wanted her to take the pain away. But to Bucky's horror, Evelyn said, "George, call an ambulance. Lucas, hold him while I push his shoulder back."

She reached for the towel his father dropped as he ran to the nearest phone box and shoved it in Bucky's mouth. She took a firm grip on his shoulder and forearm, bending his elbow. Bucky groaned as she rotated his arm forcefully and the bone popped back into place. He spat the towel out, feeling his cheeks wet with tears. Evelyn leaned in, all the while massaging his shoulder.

"O'Neal's jaundice and his legs and ankles are slightly swollen," she whispered. "He's got a fatty liver or somethin', so keep punchin' him there, you hear me? Always the same spot. This'll be your last round, so make it count. You get that bastard on his knees, James."

As the bell rang to announce round three, Evelyn picked up the towel before Lucas could get to it and jumped out of the ring with it.

"Evelyn!" yelled Lucas. "Bucky, no, come back!"

But Bucky didn't pay attention to his friend. He didn't hear Steve or Rebecca's cries nor see the shocked faces of his neighbors. He only heard Evelyn's words. They echoed through him with every heartbeat, louder than any bell could.

The liver... Always the same spot. Get that bastard on his knees.

O'Neal scoffed as Bucky advanced on him with his gloves up. He met him in the center of the ring, and the pair circled each other. That's when Bucky noticed O'Neal wasn't putting his weight on his right foot. Meaning he was hurting. Meaning he could get him.

"I'll grant ye one thing; ye're feisty for a docker," said O'Neal. "I'll try not to hurt ye too much in this final round. Because it will be the final round, boyo."

"Got that right."

Bucky moved as fast as he could and got O'Neal with a right hook on the jaw. He immediately wished he hadn't done that, as his entire arm jolted in protest. But he didn't have time to think about the pain. He only had a few minutes to turn the match in his favor.
Bucky pulled his right arm back and then quickly hit O'Neal with his left. Having expected the attack coming from the right, the Irishman left his other side open. With that first punch came an animalistic grunt. Bucky landed another punch on O'Neal's right side and kept jabbing the big lug until he decided enough was enough. O'Neal pushed him back, but Bucky stayed on his feet. No way he was touching the mat first. He narrowed his eyes when O'Neal gripped his side briefly before he put his gloves up again.

The liver... Always the same spot.

Bucky dodged O'Neal's attempt at a hook. Gritting his teeth, since he didn't have a mouth guard anymore, Bucky used all his might and hit O'Neal's chin with a well-aimed uppercut. He jabbed the right side of his opponent again and again. O'Neal coughed, and blood trickled out of his mouth.

Just a few more. Always the same spot; come on!

Suddenly, the Irishman grabbed hold of Bucky's wrist. He pulled him in and punched his shoulder. Bucky screamed as he felt and heard the bone crack. The referee shouted, ordering O'Neal to let go at once, but it was as if a demon had taken hold of the Irishman. He kept an unyielding grip on Bucky's arm and unleashed another volley of blows on his body.
Black spots invaded Bucky's vision. His mouth filled with blood again. When O'Neal hit him with an uppercut, the blood sprayed out. Then he finally let go, and Bucky dropped onto the mat, gasping for breath. O'Neal went down beside him, gripping his right side. The light above faded. Bucky's eyelids grew heavy. Someone called his name. A figure hovered over him. A halo of gold greeted him. An angel... He was saved by an angel.

***

Brooklyn, June 3, 1941 

Bucky's eyelids fluttered. He was cold. Everything hurt. It was like a boulder had waltzed over — oh, wait... O'Neal... His match... Bucky turned his head. All he saw was a dim light, a white curtain, and... Evelyn?
He tried to sit up, but sank back down when his body absolutely refused to cooperate. He stretched his neck as best he could. Evelyn was seated on the floor, her head resting near his hand... which was in her hand. Bucky opened his mouth, but only a hoarse noise came out. He coughed and inadvertently clenched his hand. Evelyn woke up. She gripped him tightly, surprised at seeing him awake, and Bucky winced.

"James! Oh, I'm sorry! No, no, don't move." She got up and sat on the bed with him. She reached for a cup and put a straw at Bucky's lips. "Drink slowly."

He dared a few sips. The cool water both eased and hurt him. He coughed again. Evelyn hastily wiped away the spilled water from his chin. She sat down on the edge of the bed and shook her head at him.

"You're such a goddamn idiot, James," she said. "Ya got us all worried sick. Next time Lucas tells ya to take a powder and forfeit, just do it."

Bucky spluttered, but Evelyn cut him off. "Yeah, I know I helped, and I'm still regrettin' that. Just... promise me you'll never do that again."

He looked into her eyes. They were filled with concern. For him? No, that couldn't —

"Bucky?" Rebecca's sudden appearance made Bucky break eye contact with Evelyn. His sister squealed and nearly jumped onto the bed to hug him. He gasped for breath as his body contracted under the extra weight. "Oh, my God, you're awake! You're finally awake!"

"Becca, careful!" warned Evelyn. "You're gonna put him right back on the operating table like that."

"Serves him right, scaring us like that." Rebecca let go and slapped Bucky's biceps. "You knucklehead, what the hell were ya thinkin' going back into that fight, huh? Pops nearly had a heart attack!" 

Bucky's eyes widened in alarm, but Evelyn quickly reassured him. "He's fine, don't worry. He's home with Steve. Becca, don't scare him like that."

"Well, it's true!" exclaimed Rebecca before she turned her attention back to Bucky. "You would've been a goner if it hadn't been for Evelyn and Lucas stepping in. It was amazing. When O'Neal grabbed you, the judges called a foul with an instant penalty, but he still wouldn't release you, so Evelyn and Lucas just stormed into the ring. She screamed at Lucas to punch O'Neal's liver, and that rotten bastard finally let go."

"Becca, language," reprimanded Evelyn sternly.

"What? He is! Anyway, Evelyn immediately took care of ya. She rode in the ambulance and waited outside the surgery so she could keep us informed of what was goin' on."

A blush crept up Evelyn's cheeks. She averted, but that didn't stop Bucky from gazing at her. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always hated this woman, and she'd hated him, and now... she'd saved him. Bucky didn't even remember someone else coming into the ring. Not Lucas, nor — wait, the angel. Was that... Evelyn?
He tried to push himself up again. Evelyn put a hand against his chest, right above his heart. Her touch jolted Bucky. She felt so warm. And comforting.

"Don't move," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "You got five broken ribs, one of which splintered and perforated your lung. The surgeons got all the fragments out. Your breathing will get better in a few days. Your right shoulder should be better by then, too, but you gotta keep it iced a couple of hours a day. O'Neal broke your left clavicle, but the surgeon thought it better to leave that arm out of the sling, for now, to see if it would heal by itself."

"Nothin' they could do about your face, though," said Becca with a sly grin. "It's still as ugly as ever."

"Becca, enough."

Rebecca furrowed her brow when Evelyn scolded her for her quip, but said nothing else. Bucky wondered at that himself. Evelyn was usually the first to say something like that, yet here she was, berating his sister for it.

"Broken nose, but it's a clean break, so it'll heal nicely," she said. "And a nasty gash at your left eye. You needed some stitches there, but they can be taken out tomorrow."

"H-How... long... w-was I...?" Bucky struggled with every word, but Evelyn thankfully knew what he wanted to ask her.

"Two days," she answered. "We took turns staying with you, so someone would be here when you woke up."

"We?" Rebecca snorted. "You haven't left since we got here. If Steve hadn't brought ya a change of clothes, you'd still be sittin' here soaked in Bucky's blood."

Evelyn pinched her lips and threw Rebecca a scowl. "Shouldn't you let your father know your brother's awake?"

"Shouldn't you let Steve and Lucas know?" retorted the teen.

"They're with your dad, so one phone call will suffice. Go on."

Rebecca huffed, but still got up from the bed. She planted a quick kiss on Bucky's temple. "Glad you're okay, big brother. Don't throw yourself into another fight too soon, 'kay? I still need ya around for a while longer."

Bucky smiled weakly at her. He wanted to hug her, but just tugging the corners of his lips up was agonizing. Rebecca shot a glance at Evelyn and then left to make her phone call.
Now that he was alone with her, Bucky became aware Evelyn still had her hand on his chest. Their eyes met again. She came closer to him. He held his breath. Was she going to...?

"I know about what Miss Donnelly offered you," she said. "She came by yesterday evening when I was alone with you. She wanted to see how you were."

Bucky's heart plummeted. If Evelyn knew about that... Goddammit, could this get any worse?

"You're a fool, James Barnes. But you're a decent and brave fool."

Wait, what?

Evelyn's lips brushed his cheek. "If you get hurt like this again, I'll smack ya all the way to last year. Got it, tough guy?"

Before she could draw away, Bucky grabbed her wrist, completely forgetting the pain he was in. She gasped, stiffening and looking at him with wide eyes.

"T-Thank you... Evelyn."

Shimmering periwinkle was the last thing Bucky remembered before he lost consciousness again.